


Sunflowers and Blood-Curdling Screams

by Patchwork drabbles (PurplePatchwork)



Series: RusAme Drabbles [58]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2018-08-19 02:46:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8186372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurplePatchwork/pseuds/Patchwork%20drabbles
Summary: In which florist Ivan only partially regrets buying the building next to Alfred's tattoo shop.





	1. Chapter 1

 

" _Privet_  dear, what can I—" "GYAAAAAAH!" "…what can I get you?"

Ivan's smile only slightly strained as the poor old lady before him whipped her head around, looking for the source of all those pained screams. How many times now had he had to explain to his customers that no, he did not have a torture room in the back, the walls between his shop and the one next-door were simply very thin, and well, this is what you got for becoming the owner of a store located right next to a tattoo parlour.  _Especially_  when the owner of said parlour liked to scare his customers by being much too enthusiastic about sticking a needle into their skin. But so far, he'd managed.

He managed and managed and managed, smiling as he attempted to sell sunflowers and lilies with the occasional background scream for bloody murder. Until finally, no more customers were in sight, and he slumped over the counter, particularly exhausted. It was about closing time for his shop, but Alfred would continue to work for another hour and a half. And suddenly, he felt like paying that masked sadist a little visit.

Which is why ten minutes later, a jingle could be heard as he walked through the door and into a rather stuffy room, his apron hung neatly next to his coat and the sign turned to closed at his own shop's door. He looked around, feeling rather bemused, at the pictures of dragons and skulls and the occasional fairy-tale creature.

Footsteps could be heard, and he turned just in time to see the sunny blond approaching, as always dressed in a sleeveless tank top, drying his hands on some paper towels.

"Yo big guy! Finally here to get a tattoo huh?" He leant forward, eyes raving over his body, suddenly giving him the need to cover up somehow. "I'll have to admit it's weird not seeing you with your frilly pink apron, or surrounded by daisies."

Ivan sent him a cool gaze, all quirked eyebrows and darkened amethysts. "I simply came to ask you why you feel the need to have all your clients scream like they are in a horror film."

Alfred let out a single bark of laughter—and was he flexing his muscles? Or did Ivan just imagine the slight dusting of pink on his cheeks when his eyes quickly shot away, looking quite caught? "Not my fault! I'm always extremely careful, and no one's ever walked out of here complaining! It's just, you know…" He shrugged, grin suddenly more sheepish. "I guess they don't really get my sense of humour." He once more looked at Ivan, suddenly having a quite curious glint to his amazing blues. "You sure you don't want a tattoo?"

Ivan shook his head with a small smile. " _Nyet._  I do not feel the need to accessorise my body, thank you."

"We got flowers too, you know," Alfred insisted. "Roses, violets…sunflowers…"

Ivan had just been about to leave and close up the shop, when that single word tingled in the air, piquing his interest. He looked back at Alfred, eyes narrowed. "How do you know that sunflowers are my favourite?"

Alfred grinned, shaking his head (the pink spreading). "You just told me! I was just making suggestions. Well? What'd you think? You could be the ultimate flower shop owner." He made it sound like a grand money prize.

Ivan paused for just a second to contemplate the image of a small sunflower, perhaps located cutely on his right shoulder. A second was all Alfred needed.

Before the gentle giant knew it, he was being herded down some sort of hallway, brought to a room with a black leather chair and even more pictures on the wall.

"Wait, I did not, I have not yet decided—"

"Come on sweet pea, I'm sure it'll look great on ya!" Alfred continued to babble, chatting on and on about how cool Ivan would look covered in tattoos.

Ivan tried to rise from the chair, but was firmly pushed down again as Alfred thrust a book with pictures into his hands.

"See?" he said, pointing at all the sunflower designs he had. "There's big ones, small ones, these can cover your entire arm, there's different colour schemes…"

"Did you make these yourself?" Ivan asked, audibly impressed by the other's handiwork.

Alfred grinned shyly, shrugging one shoulder. "It's no biggie. I have lots of free time. Okay, but let me take a look—"

He began, by lack of a better term, thoroughly feeling up Ivan's arm, attempting to pull up (or down?) his sleeve. Ivan wasn't having it.

"Hey—I still haven't—get your hands off my arm!"

Alfred let go for only a moment, but leant down with what only could be described as the most devilish puppy expression Ivan had ever witnessed. For just a moment, he forgot how to breathe.

"I'll make sure it looks amazing," Alfred promised—and  _why was his lower lip quivering?_

"I…" Ivan stuttered, blinking rapidly. "I…okay?" He had forgotten what he was agreeing with.

Making full use of that moment of weakness, Alfred roughly pulled down Ivan's sleeve, baring his shoulder. Ivan yelped, but was blatantly ignored.

"Yeah see, you have amazing skin for this! Just look, the colours of this design would perfectly contrast your skin!"

He ordered Ivan to take off the rest of his shirt himself, and Ivan hesitated just a moment longer, but really, that was indeed a very nice sunflower. He was actually starting to feel a bit giddy, wanting to have a small cute decoration there, something he could show off to his sisters, that could give him an excuse to wear sleeveless shirts on hot summer days, and perhaps, one day, something a lover could stroke their fingers along…

Blushing at those intrusive thoughts, he robotically lifted his shirt over his head, not seeing the way Alfred's smile grew as patches of naked skin were revealed.

"Wonderful!" the blond exclaimed, clasping his hands together. "Just lie back and relax, big guy, I'll make you beautiful! I mean, not that you aren't already—I'm not talking in a gay way or anything, just from an aesthetic point of view…" He vaguely gestured about, before deciding to shut the hell up and get to work.

Everything went fine. From the disinfecting, to drawing the outlines with which Alfred would be working, to idle chitchat, to getting his things ready. (And when Ivan made a comment about how he was making the other work after-hours, Alfred merely shrugged it off.)

It was only when the needle came into play that Ivan felt a bit apprehensive once again. He wasn't easily frightened, nor did he have a weak stomach. But there was just something about that devious grin, the way Alfred confidently held that sharp object, as if he was about to jab it straight into his arm, as if he wanted to scar him—

"On second thought," Ivan said, "I really think I should sleep on this."

"Nonsense! You'll be fine!" Alfred insisted, placing a steady hand on his arm, bringing the needle closer. "It'll only hurt a little, I promise. Nothing you can't handle."

"No,  _Alfred_ , I mean it—"

And just then, when the needle was about to make contact with his skin, Ivan reflexively pulled away. He yelped when he felt something sharp scrape along his porcelain skin, hissing at the burn it left behind.  _Shit._

Alfred's mouth fell open, expression growing from calm and confident to remorseful and panicky. "Oh my God I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to, I, you shouldn't have pulled away!" It was obvious this didn't usually happen to him, which meant that Ivan was being a difficult customer. Great.

"Maybe you can kiss it better," Ivan said dryly, as he attempted to hide to small flare of anger he felt; he hadn't wanted a stupid tattoo in the first place! Stupid Alfred, with his boundless confidence and his handsome smirk and teasing jabs and, and strong muscles…

Ivan's eyes widened when the other instantly bent forward and let his lips brush along the red line he'd left behind. Ivan jerked back a second time, more out of surprise than anything.

"I'm so, so sorry, wait—I'll get some more disinfectant…" He stood up and turned around, not noticing how Ivan's cheeks had grown several shades darker after he had performed that small act of kindness. Or perhaps the reason he couldn't look him in the eye was because he himself resembled a boiled lobster.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Made a second chapter to this after all. :)

Ivan neatly rolled up a bouquet of white tulips into delicate paper, finishing up with a bow. It was almost closing time, but nowadays that no longer meant the long-expected end to an onslaught of disturbances coming from the building next-door. No, Ivan and Alfred had made their peace long ago, and not once had Ivan felt it necessary to walk over to file in his complaints. Which didn’t mean they never saw each other again; on the contrary, Alfred often dropped by before or after closing hours.

“Here you go, miss,” Ivan said warmly, getting a delighted giggle in return. He waved her out after receiving payment, before turning back towards the roses. Someone had called earlier today to make a reservation, and now that all the other customers had left, it was time to get to work, so that everything was ready for pick-up by the time he did close shop.

Ivan bent over, gathering twenty dark red roses in his arms, taking deep appreciative breaths to smell their rich essence. Ivan heard the door open behind him, the bell giving a jingle.

“Just a second, I will be right with you,” he hummed in a sing-song voice; handling these beautiful flowers always managed to put him in a good mood. Sunflowers were still his favourites (as the tiny tattoo on his shoulder proved), but any flower did the trick.

“No need to rush, big guy.”

Ivan smiled, before raising his back and turning towards Alfred, the flowers falling in elegant bundles in his arms. “Alfred,” he said, expression still pure and utter content under the knowledge of a long working day once more coming to an end, “I was under the impression that you were still open for a while.”

Ivan’s heart gave the smallest of jumps when his gaze fell upon Alfred’s face, eyes wide and almost sparkling, as if he’d just witnessed something divine. “Alfred?” he asked, not realising exactly what the dark hue of the roses did to his skin, not realising exactly how wonderful Alfred must think his current expression.

The owner of the tattoo parlour rapidly blinked his eyes (Ivan noticed that for once he had covered up his richly decorated arms by a neat suit, and promptly came to the conclusion that his neighbour dressed up quite nicely). “Oh, I closed shop early today. Have some stuff to do this evening, and business was running slow today anyway.” He uncovered his brilliantly white teeth in a careless laugh, never taking his eyes off of Ivan.

Ivan smiled, walking further into the store to where he had a table for arranging flowers, beckoning for Alfred to follow. “I see,” Ivan mused, carefully laying down the roses, grabbing some green leafs to give the bouquet more body. “Running errands?”

“Uh, not exactly,” Alfred admitted, looking around at all the different kinds of flowers, obviously too distracted to take in any of their names. “Have made arrangements at a restaurant. Hoping to meet someone there.” For whatever reason, the usually bold—borderline audacious—man seemed nervous.

Ivan looked up from the bouquet he was working on, quirking an eyebrow. “You have a date?” he asked, the thought of which left a bitter taste on his tongue. He didn’t quite care for Alfred going on dates with anyone, a startling realisation that settled deep within his gut. Ivan quickly turned back to his work, giving the finishing touches.

“Uh, yeah. Hopefully. If this works.”

“Hmm? If what works?”

Ivan stood up with the finished bouquet in his arms, sending another look at the clock. Whoever had ordered these flowers was late to pick them up; it was officially past closing time right now.

Alfred scraped his throat. Apparently he had sweaty hands, for he kept patting his slacks. “Well, I kinda hoped the flowers would do the trick.”

Ivan fully turned to him. “Ah, so you came to buy flowers for your sweetheart. Why didn’t you say so sooner?”

Alfred licked his lips, nodded at the roses Ivan was holding. “I did. You just made them.”

Ivan’s eyes widened. Ah. “The roses.” If he had known who these were for, he would have put a lot less effort into them. Ivan could already feel his mood souring. What was wrong with him today?! Surely he liked Alfred’s presence, but not to that extent…

Ivan briskly extended the bouquet. “Well, I hope they help. Do you want to pay in cash?”

Alfred gingerly accepted the flowers, now looking Ivan directly in the eye. “Well uh, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to hold off on paying. I mean, until after dinner.”

Ivan felt himself grow even more terse; any onlooker would have called his behaviour sulking. “I will no longer be here by then. It is closing time.”

Alfred’s cheeks obtained a mild pink taint. “Yeah, I know. Because you’re coming with me.”

Ivan’s brow furrowed deeper. Alfred wasn’t making any sense. “ _Chto_? You want me as a wingman of sorts?”

Alfred wildly shook his head, led out a small whine. His behaviour was becoming so uncharacteristic (and admittedly adorable), that Ivan could no longer take it.

“Well, spit it out! Why should I come with you on your _date_? I do not like to play second fiddle!”

Alfred’s voice came out as a squeak, small and high-pitched. “I was kinda hoping that _you_ would be my date.”

Everything in the small flower shop went deadly silent, not even the clock seemed keen on making a noise (or perhaps its sounds were simply drowned out by the big question mark coming to the foreground of Ivan’s psyche).

“I… _chto_?” He felt like he was repeating himself a lot this evening, but it was the only question he could ask.

Alfred extended the flowers back to him, his smile hopeful yet his eyes shifting. “I’d like to take you to dinner, if you don’t mind. I uh, I know you like flowers, so I thought I’d buy you some, but who knows how to deal with flowers better than the florist himself, so that’s why I asked you, but maybe I shouldn’t because isn’t it more romantic if I surprised you with something you didn’t sell, but—“

Ivan quickly covered the other’s mouth with a hand, before he could be completely side-tracked.

“You were the one to order this flowers,” he repeated, asking confirmation. Alfred nodded. “…For me?”

He lifted his hand so Alfred could answer, but all that came out was a stuttered “Uh, yeah.”

They stared each other down for another moment, Alfred’s arms still outstretched. Ivan finally sighed.

“You are right. It is a bit ridiculous to ask the one you want to go out with to prepare their own gift.”

Alfred hurriedly opened his mouth to protest, but Ivan accepted the bouquet anyway. His smile had returned, expression warm and doting. “You really know how to make simple things difficult.”

“S-so you’ll come?” Alfred asked, needing a moment for this to sink in before he too began grinning like a maniac.

Ivan giggled. For someone dealing with pain and torture every day, Alfred could be surprisingly gentle. Ivan lightly touched the little sunflower tattoo on his shoulder; yes. He had confirmed that side of Alfred’s a long time ago. His heart gave another leap when Alfred took hold of Ivan’s hand and placed a quick kiss to the knuckles, a gesture both ridiculously outdated and outlandishly endearing.

“Though if it was for me, why not sunflowers?” Ivan asked, hanging his apron away and grabbing the keys to his apartment.

Alfred shrugged apologetically. “Because then you might find out before I got the courage to ask you out.”

Ivan sent him a berating leer, underlined with a smile. “Alfred, I never would have found out had you not spelled it out. You may call me the delicate one, but believe me, dating and romance are not up my alley, as they say.”

Alfred jumped in, hooking his arm into Ivan’s. “Well, time to change that then.”

And that is how the two of them walked off later that evening, hand in hand, one arm heavily tattooed, the other sporting only the smallest sunflower, the tattooist and the florist.


End file.
